What Happens To People

What happens to people?
We see them in these moments of their lives young and happy smiling as if there is no reason to ever think it will not be alright
And then we see them years later
And they have become something else
And all that youth and beauty and happiness is not there anymore
And we wonder what life is about
And why it happens to people this way
And why we can’t always stay where we were in those times when we were young and happy
We wonder why God made it be this way
And we feel a pain and a sadness and a regret and a wonder
Why God made it this way and what happens to people
And why in this life my life your life our life it cannot forever stay as it was when we were young and happy
And we have no answer but only a question we would rather not have

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been

THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN

The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Childhood World Was Once The Only World

My childhood world was once the only world
Years later when it exists only in my memory
It has become one of many worlds the Jewish people have known
In their long journey-

Its idiom and characters its look and its feel
Its small dreams and distinct languages
Are gone-

All I thought once the whole of the real world
Is only a small part of what has gone on far longer than it
And all these worlds together too
Are not the whole of the universe –

Yet my memory of this world makes it larger and larger
And for me still it is in the center of space and time –

One day soon when I am gone
No one will know it as I have-
Some traces of it will remain in the minds of other witnesses

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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On The Day Of The Funeral Of Hanan Porat Z' TS'L

ON THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL OF HANAN PORAT Z’Ts”L

You died on a day of irony
The same day the European Union today recognized the ‘Palestinian Authority’ as a ‘Democracy’
Another sign the dream you lived your life for
The return of all of Eretz Yisrael
Apparently will not completely be-

Yet the life
With all its longing, sacrifice and heroism,
With its all realization of a dream of return,

With the exile of childhood and the years of study and work
And the victory and return of 67’
And the war and wounding of 73’

And the stubborn courage of returning to and building Gush Etzion-

And all the years of teaching Torah
And inspiring others-

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Is Wonderful That There Are So Many Small Children In Israel

IT IS WONDERFUL THAT THERE ARE SO MANY SMALL CHILDREN IN ISRAEL

It is wonderful that there are so many small children in Israel
I see them everywhere and am happy when I see them.
Do they make up or compensate in some way for the million and one half Jewish children murdered a generation or two ago?
Nothing makes up for even one life lost
That we know.

But still seeing these children one invariably thinks of those other Jewish children-
I don't understand it at all-

It is wonderful that there are so many small children in Israel
Children are a great blessing and the hope of their parents and grandparents lives-

God Bless and protect these children
And let them never know the hatred the suffering the cruelty
Children no less innocent than them knew
A generation or two ago.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem

1) A short poem
Saves time,

2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.

3) A short poem is over
Before its read.

4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.

5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.

6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.

7) A short poem

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Piano Recital of Isser Slonim at the Rubin Academy in Jerusalem

A PIANO RECITAL OF ISSER SLONIM AT THE RUBIN ACADEMY IN JERUSALEM

An old man is not a paltry thing
His hands are hammers and strings
His mind holds the whole composition
Before it unflows to us.

In this bare room
With these simple chairs
His Russian students long hair
Bright their laughter- Youth,

He gives a life of integrity
To playing a music of strength
whose tones deepened
by mastery say,
“This is a real thing a great thing. “

And this time its name is not fame and celebrity

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not

The poet I am, and the poet I am not

‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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And If I Am A Mediocrity?

AND IF I AM A MEDIOCRITY?

And if I am a mediocrity?
And what I have written is not worthy of remembrance?
And if I belong to the great mass of those not good enough?
And if all I have done disappears as if it never were?
And I also?

Should I blame myself
Or simply say God made me not good enough?
Should I feel sad and a failure
Or simply resign myself to what is the case?
Should I protest in anger
Or simply go on meeting the obligations of my life
As best I can?

I know the answer.
Being the best person I can
Especially to those closest to me
Is what is most important.

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Is Restless In Me

THE POEM IS RESTLESS IN ME

The poem is restless in me-
It waits to be heard-
Now that it comes
It does not feel especially happy about itself.
It knows it is not real-
It is not much-
Just because it is called a poem by me
Does not make it a poem -
The mind has its own place-
My mind also -
I am always thinking poems are with me,
And poems waiting to come-
But who am I and what do I know?
These lines are written in the still of the morning
When the light outside still brings hope
That a new day is possible.
But so many poems have been written in the early morning
And I am so old from hearing them said to me by myself-

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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